Dilemma on Tuesday
by JLvE
Summary: Drabble, light hearted. Playing a game of Dilemma on Tuesday.
**This is a rubbish drabble. I have no idea how this came about. Well, I do, there is this book called Dilemma on Tuesday (because Tuesday starts with a D in my language so it forms a nice alliteration). So naturally it lead to this (kinda) OOC interaction. Because, who cares that it is Sunday instead of Tuesday to post it? Surely not me.**

* * *

 **Dilemma on Tuesday**

They were standing in the elevator, approximately 30 cm apart, as ever. Enough distance to be professionally separated, close enough for Andrea to be taunted by Miranda's intoxicating scent. A smell so heavenly that it continuously dared her to lean in and glide her nose along her Boss' elegant neck. Which would not happen. Because Miranda was her boss and way out of her league and straight and merely talking about budgets and what Andrea should e-mail Irv and that the Wang shoot had to be redone before Thursday and if she would rather have the elevator always stopping at the wrong floor or sleep once a week at the office behind her desk.

Wait what?

She glanced nervously towards Miranda, but nothing in her face revealed the bizarre question she had just asked Andrea. Almost as if she hadn't asked at all. Had she? Or did she contract some sort of hearing impairment somewhere and now she would hear nonsense every time Miranda gave her tasks, which would irrevocably lead to being fired and abandonment from New York working life.

Apparently not. Miranda's face started to mould into impatience, as if she was waiting for an answer to something. Really? Okay. Apparently trick questions it was.

What was she supposed to answer?

Perhaps playing stupid would be a wise tactic.

'My apologies Miranda, what do you mean-'

'It's beyond me why the simplest of questions is above your limit, Northwestern must have degraded its curriculum for you to graduate.'

Perhaps disappearing into the ground would be a wise tactic.

'I'm sorry Miranda-'

'I didn't ask for an apology.'

Okay. Think fast. Elevator means always be late. Sleeping means be rumpled and wearing the same outfit two days in a row. Both would be rewarded with being out of a job.

'Euhm… The elevator… I guess? I mean the workout would mean I'd perhaps go back a size.' Excellent answer Sachs. Showing dedication to the job, while sounding as if you'd never be late or permanently red in the face from running stairs. She glanced at Miranda again, bracing for a snide remark.

But Miranda only gave her a thorough look-over and hmpfd. The elevator bell ringed the message that they had arrived at the 17th floor.

And the day went by without any difference.

* * *

Lilly couldn't stop laughing. Andy didn't not find it amusing at all. 'I don't see the humour Lills. How am I supposed to react to that? What kind of question is it anyway? And why do I have to be tested, again. Like, even more then every freakin' test that is already every second of this job. I thought we were past that since Paris.'

Lilly calmed down a bit and wiped tears out of her face. 'Oooh Andy, she just Dilemma on Tuesday-ed you, and you had no clue. That's hilarious.' Lilly started to laugh again.

'Dilemma on Tuesday-what? What the fuck is Dilemma-whatever. It is not even Tuesday today, it's Monday for god sake. What does Miranda mean with Dilemma on Tue-'

'Stop talking honey. I'll explain.' She Giggled some more. 'Oh this is precious. Miranda Dilemma-ed you. And you were completely unaware of it. You just-' She was about to start laughing again but Andy send her a very angry glare.

'Okay okay, don't get you knickers in a twist. Dilemma on Tuesday is a very simple game. It is a funny way of getting to know one-another. It often is played by friends or at parties or-'

'Miranda has no interest in getting to know me. As friends.' Or anything else, she thought. 'And we were certainly not having a party in the elevator.'

'Oh don't pout, and accept the fact that your crush can be fed with this tiny light of weird karma. Because it's your turn now. The rules are this: you give a person two scenario's that are either funny, embarrassing or personal and the other has to choose one of the two and explain why. Then the person who answered to question gets to make up two new scenarios. And so forth.'

Andrea looked at her incredulously. 'Why is that called Dilemma on Tuesday? And why would Miranda play such a thing with me?'

Lilly grinned. 'I don't know, and I don't know, but it is and it is your turn. So you better make up something good.'

* * *

Tuesday morning at the office. How irony was knocking at her door. She now had a real Dilemma on Tuesday. Whether to decide to send Miranda a dilemma, and be fired if Lilly was wrong and Miranda was not playing anything. Or to not send her a dilemma and be fired because Miranda was not a very patient person, so being tardy (at a game or not) was not allowed.

Well, better go down burning they say.

From: Asachs

To: Mpriestly

Subject: D.O.T.

 _Would you rather have tepid coffee every Monday morning, or a Meeting with Irv every Monday morning._

She clicked send and prayed she wouldn't be murdered.

A ping indicated an incoming e-mail. From Miranda, who was apparently checking her mail in the car towards Elias-Clarck. Time to die or time to fly.

From: Mpriestly

To: Asachs

Subject: Re: D.O.T.

 _So you do catch up at some point._

 _If this is your way of saying my coffee is lukewarm, then I advise you to rethink the situation._

 _Irv. He is merely annoying._

Wow. This was definitely the twilight zone. Miranda just affirmed that they were… playing… this Dilemma thing. Or at least, one round of it. There was no dilemma back. Andy did not know what to think of this all. Why? Why was Miranda playing this? Why did she… somewhat explain herself? Why to all of this.

But in the afternoon, right before lunch her mailbox pinged again. And it sure was what she feared and hoped.

 _To be forced to look at hideous spreads all day, or to be forced to spend the evening smiling to people that'd cut your throat if they had the chance?_

Andy couldn't hide the smile. Miranda was having another fundraising event tonight and it clearly influenced her dilemma inspiration.

She quickly wrote back:

 _Smiling. Both situations inflict harm to the eyes, but when they want but can't cut your throat you are in control.  
_

She didn't write a dilemma back, and they went through their little routine of pretending there was nothing different all day.

Yet, over the next day's work became this weird split situation in which Miranda was no different to her than any other time, yet her mailbox pinged at least one time a day sending or responding a dilemma. Most of them were superficial, often related to parts of their work or schedule, but some hinted at Miranda's or Andy's private life.

 _Would you rather be a vampire or the person that writes horoscopes for the free daily paper._

Andy wrote on her way to work one Friday, after a ridiculous horoscope that promised interesting times ahead.

 _Who told you I'm not a vampire?_

She got back right before lunchtime and the run-through in which Miranda decided to solely feature black clothes for the nightlife spread.

At their next trip to Gaultier, Miranda whispered ' _forever without Manolo Blahniks, or no more onion bagels?'_ right before stepping out of the car. She checked her breath five times before following her. Did Miranda think she stank?

'Onion bagels.' She answered in the elevator down. Miranda just raised an eyebrow in disbelief and Andy could not hide a grin.

Right before Andy had to collect a bunch of scarves from Hermes she e-mailed

 _Would you rather wear pink for the rest of your life, or only be able to communicate by singing opera._

The very surprising answer was waiting for her right after she returned to Runway with Miranda's coffee.

' _Pink. There are eternal shades of pink. Opera would mean I would lose my authority.'_

Andy thought about that. If Miranda's authority would be destroyed by singing, probably Miranda could pull it off being an Editor in Chief without ever talking again. But it would be a lot harder, as people had difficulties reading her with voice, let alone if everything got conveyed via glances.

When she was waiting for the book, a total of four and a half weeks after their first bizarre start of the game, her phone buzzed announcing another e-mail.

 _Would you rather French kiss Nigel, or be in your underwear for a work-day in the office?_

Miranda was in her car towards home. She knew the editor's evening was free and Andy presumed she would spend it with the girls. But apparently Miranda's thoughts were more adult orientated.

 _French kiss Nigel._

An immediate ping sounded from her phone. A text message with one word.

 _Why?_

Andy typed back

 _Because I am the smart fat girl remember?_

 _What is your issue with your weight?_

 _I don't think it is necessarily my issue, rather that of our dear colleagues who would comment on it throughout the day. And that would become an issue to me. Besides, I would like it if the moment my cleavage is on display for someone is a little more intimate. Call it Midwestern roots._

She got no answer, but Miranda glanced discretely at her cleavage the next day after she returned from her meeting with Marco Marco. Andy blushed.

Purely to get back at Miranda and because she had clearly no wish to ever pursue a career in publishing she wrote back

 _Would you rather eat chocolate desserts for a whole month, or have for the same amount of time fantasies of romantic nature about a co-worker._

Late in the evening, she got a reply, even after she had brought the book.

 _Romantic fantasies, albeit both are in the end impossible to cover up._

It was the first time their little game crossed the border of being outside of work-time. Andy thought Miranda's answer to be a warning about her own feelings. Work the next day was without a ping that announced an e-mail or text from Miranda and Andy worried that she had crossed the line too far. But she wasn't fired and the day went on as normal as could be.

Yet apparently romance was a theme for Miranda because a mere 23 hours after Andy's borderline dilemma, just before bedtime her phone announced a text.

 _Date a Runway Employee for six months, or be a keynote speaker at a hideous skirt convention?_

Andy texted back  
 _Have you checked the magazine that you run? Runway is full of beauty. Date someone of course._

It took a mere 30 minutes with a twisted stomach in front of the television while she pretended not to look at her phone before she heard a sound coming from the device.

 _Whom?_

Grinning she texted back

 _Are you changing the rules Miranda? With Never Have I Ever you need to drink to ask additional questions. I indulged your extra questions once already before._

There was no reply back, but Andy fell asleep with a giddy feeling anyway.

She dared to e-mail Miranda the next day right after the editor's international skype meeting with Runway London

 _Have Patricia changed into a small horse, or feature old fashioned English wellies in your magazine._

She got an immediate reply. Apparently Miranda had been waiting for the next dilemma.

 _Patricia brings enough mud into the house as it is. Changing her into a horse won't make that much of a difference._ _Mario or Patrick?_

Andy blushed. Apparently Miranda's track of thoughts hadn't changed. She just played by new rules. Well two could perhaps play that, because slowly it began to dawn on Andy what they were playing. Purely to test the waters, she wrote back

 _Well, I recently found out I prefer the more feminine of humans, but I guess when it comes to a sensual photoshoot, Demarchelier._

It acquired her a slight blush from Miranda when she walked into her office to report on Jocelyn's selection on jewellery. Miranda looked at the pictures for a second, and at Andrea for a lot of seconds before she husked 'good'.

Because they were crossing lines in all kinds of ways anyway she attached a post it to Miranda's morning Starbucks on Friday

 _You always lose when you're not sure of something, or you might lose if you dare something?_

When she returned from her lunchbreak there was a small post it stuck to her computer screen. In Miranda's small cursive handwriting it said

 _That is not interesting, that is life_.

Underneath the post it was another post it.

 _Emily or Serena?_

She waited the rest of the afternoon with her answer. Just when Miranda entered the elevator she pressed sent on her phone, the sound that acknowledged its arrival inside Miranda's bag went together with Miranda's shrug of her head that meant Andy was riding the elevator with her.

When the doors closed she lightly said 'You've got a message.'

When Miranda didn't respond she added 'It might be worthwhile checking it.'

Miranda raised an eyebrow, but got her phone out anyway.

 _This dilemma I can't answer for many reasons. And neither of them would appreciate it if I would choose their lover as a romantic interest._

Miranda frowned a bit, as if she did not understand the importance of the message. But the elevator announced that they had arrived at the ground floor and when the doors opened she leaned over and with her most sultry voice she whispered in Miranda's ear

' _You have dinner with me, get to know me without these ridiculous dilemmas but with a possibility of making out; or you have drinks with me, I will elaborate on my stories while you elaborate on yours, which potentially leads to making out.'_

Without looking back she walked to the exit of the building. When she entered the subway her phone pinged and Andy's face lit up at what was written down:

 _Dinner. When?_


End file.
